Not Personal, Not Impersonal

You move your hand

You move your hand and realise that there’s something on it. It’s spider’s web. You break it. It must have got on you when you walked near that tree. The web isn’t just on your hand. It was stretching up to your shoulder. It’s in your hair. Your hand is up to your hair instantly and then you feel it crawling across your scalp. Both hands now, furiously pushing through your hair trying to disrupt it. It’s gone. It’s fallen. It’s gone… Between your shirt and your skin.